


Power Outage

by Authorexx



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Allusion to Cabenson, F/F, Gals being pals, Gen, a sprinkle of angst, just a tiny bit of flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29553207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authorexx/pseuds/Authorexx
Summary: What happens when the power goes out at Amanda Rollins' apartment during a snowstorm?
Relationships: Olivia Benson & Amanda Rollins
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Power Outage

**Author's Note:**

> This is a special one! I wrote this while I was in a power outage by hand--very little of this was originally typed on a computer. This is inspired by my desperate need to have human connection while I tried not to freeze for 45 hours straight! -Ax

Winter in New York was beautiful—flurries of snow danced through the Manhattan air, lending a sort of whimsy to the atmosphere. It was certainly less dreary and gray than Atlanta at this time of year. It lacked snow and excitement, often leaving Amanda depressed after simply glancing outside for a moment. Even the markedly chillier breezes that blew through the city blocks like wind tunnels did little to dampen Amanda’s mood about winter in New York. Part of it was the thrill of a new place, but something was special about having four distinct seasons in the year. New York’s particular brand of winter made even the most mundane of tasks somehow more invigorating and magical and tonight’s post-work grocery run was no exception.

Amanda lived in an older building, but she loved her little space nonetheless. This evening, she arrived home to see her super in the hall, looking twice as harried and frustrated as normal. “Evening, Mr. Jones. Everything alright?” Amanda asked, passing by.

His shoulders slumped; he looked defeated. “Well, not exactly. That blizzard blowing in tonight might cause some real problems.” He glanced down at the bags of groceries in Amanda’s hands, “You got enough to last a few days? Could get snowed in.”

Amanda slid the key into her lock with a shrug. “I’ll be alright; I can fend for myself.” The door opened, and she dropped her bags inside. “G’night, Mr. Jones,” she waved, closing the door behind her. “Psh. Blizzards. Nothin’ I can’t handle,” Amanda scoffed as she unpacked her groceries. She wasn’t a complete stranger to snow; Atlanta had its fair share throughout her younger years. The first few flakes began to settle on her windowsill, and she watched, entranced with childlike wonder before starting her dinner preparations. The snow began to pile up as this week’s episode of “Heart’s Desire” played on the television as she ate, occasionally rolling her eyes at the contestants’ histrionics that were _clearly_ only for the sake of screen time. Amanda cast one final glance out her window before heading to bed, already excited to see the city as a white-blanketed winter wonderland in the morning.

Hours later, Amanda awoke in her bed, shivering violently and pulling the sheets around her in a desperate attempt to preserve any bit of heat left in her bed. She stumbled into her slippers and shuffled out of her bedroom, finding the thermostat on the wall in her groggy haze. Her phone’s flashlight illuminated the strangely darkened readout: 50 degrees; impossibly low, even for a snow storm. She swore under her breath and dialed Mr. Jones’ number as she made her way back to bed, still cloaked in her comforter.

“Hello?” Mr. Jones was wide awake and clearly annoyed. “If this is about the power and the heat, yes, I know; I’ve been callin’ the utility company since it went out—“

Amanda blinked, still half-asleep. “I—well, what do I do, then?”

“If you’ve got any place to go, I’d suggest going there,” he said, heaving a labored sigh. “Could be all day if they don’t get back to me.”

Amanda mumbled her thanks and hung up, already feeling a headache coming on. She glanced at her phone’s clock; it was three in the morning. The precinct had to have power; it would be warm. Crashing in the crib for a couple of hours would be far better than freezing in her own apartment. She changed into a slightly comfier-than-average work ensemble, topping it off with a cozy winter hat to hide her bed head. She ventured back into the cold, hurrying to her subway station and dodging the freezing gusts that threatened to knock her over, quietly thankful for the heat of the train as she sank into a seat, feeling her hands and face begin to defrost.

Just as Amanda had expected, the precinct was quiet and more than adequately heated. She rushed to the crib, hoping to get some sleep before her shift. The scratchy blankets transformed into luxurious quilts and the flat pillow became plush and inviting to her weary, frozen bones as she curled up for a nap, pulling her woolen hat over her eyes to block out the light.

“Rollins, hey, you okay?” A soft voice floated into Amanda’s dreams, slowly bringing her out of her slumber.

“Five more minutes, Mama,” Amanda murmured, waving off whoever was waking her.

The voice chuckled and spoke again. “Amanda, I’m not your mother; what are you doing here this early?”

Amanda pulled up her hat and blinked awake to see Olivia Benson standing over her, and she sat up with a start, her heart hammering in her chest as she checked her watch. She wasn’t late, Olivia was early. “Olivia—I—um—good morning.”

“Were you pulling an all-nighter, Rollins?” Olivia’s face grew concerned as she raised an eyebrow, resting one hand on her hip.

“Nah, um, power’s out at my place. No heat, either. Figured I could stay here.” Amanda blushed, pulling off her hat and running her hands through her hair to pull it into a tight ponytail. “Dunno how long it’ll take, though. Super seemed pretty unsure.”

“Well, if it’s not fixed by tonight, my door is always open.” Olivia smiled, giving Amanda’s shoulder a supportive pat before disappearing back into the squad room.

“I don’t need your charity,” Amanda said under her breath, rising to her feet with a stretch. Olivia Benson, her personal hero of several years, taking pity on her? Humiliating. She took a breath and followed out the door, finding her way back to her desk and slumping into her chair to start her work day.

The short, restless sleep had Amanda’s mind wandering throughout the day. She kept finding herself lost in a fog of thought when she should’ve been working. Why should Olivia be worried about her living situation? As far as Amanda was concerned, Olivia barely knew she existed. In any case, it wouldn’t matter; she’d get the call from her super soon enough. Amanda soon found herself unable to dwell on any thoughts of her apartment as she began scouring some security camera footage sent over from TARU, finding a flow to the process, making notes of timestamps and suspects.

“Rollins,” Cragen’s voice echoed through the precinct, “Head home. It’s late and it’ll start snowing again soon.”

Amanda blinked, feeling her eyes burn as she did so—it must’ve been hours since she last left her desk. She looked around, finding the precinct nearly devoid of people. Fin and Munch had left hours ago. “But—Cap, are Amaro and Benson back?” she asked, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes to reduce the sting.

As if on cue, the two detectives rushed through the doorway of the precinct, brushing snow off their shoulders. “Rollins, you’re still here?” Nick asked, rubbing his cold-reddened nose.

“I was just leaving, actually, I’m…” Amanda glanced over at Olivia, who was reporting back to Cragen in his office, “I’m staying at Olivia’s tonight. Power and heat’s out at my place; has been all day.” She rolled her neck, the dull soreness slowly dissipating as she stood from her desk.

Nick nodded and headed for his desk. “Enjoy your slumber party. Don’t pillow fight too much.”

Olivia returned from Cragen’s office, now standing beside Amanda’s desk. “Still haven’t heard anything?” she asked, her voice low and gentle, attempting to stay out of earshot.

Amanda smiled in thanks for her discretion, “Nothing yet,” she said, shrugging and letting out a little sigh. “You don’t have to do this, really.”

“And have you freeze?” Olivia chuckled, watching as Amanda began to layer up for the cold, “I don’t think so. Not when I’ve got the space.” She led the way, starting for the elevators. “What should we do for dinner?”

Amanda’s brows knit together under the brim of her beanie. “Olivia, please, I don’t wanna impose,” she said, falling in step as they walked down the hall.

“You barely ate today,” Olivia said, nudging Amanda slightly as the elevator began to descend. Amanda opened her mouth to protest, but was cut off, “And a protein bar from the vending machine doesn’t count.”

Amanda rolled her eyes, letting out a huff. “Alright; fine,” she grumbled, tugging her hat further down her forehead as they emerged onto the street, now met with the biting cold of the night air.

Olivia strode down the sidewalk with a practiced ease that Amanda only hoped she could emulate. This was her penance as a transplant to the city—she stuck out like a sore thumb, lacking much of the native know-how that the other members of her squad possessed.

“You’ll get used to it,” Olivia said, seeing the despondent look on Amanda’s frost-pinked face, “The brutal cold, I mean.”

Amanda pursed her lips and nodded. “I don’t doubt it.”

“So you’re thinking of sticking around?” Olivia smiled, fishing for her keys in her coat pocket. “That’s good news. We haven’t had two women on the squad in…” she took a moment, making the mental calculations, “several years.”

They rushed into the building, both sighing with relief as the door closed behind them, heading from the warmth of the lobby to the warmth of Olivia’s apartment. “You still didn’t tell me what you wanted for dinner,” Olivia said, a wry smile on her lips as she hung up her coat. “I’ve got takeout and delivery menus for half of Manhattan in the kitchen.”

“You order out a lot?” Amanda asked, shedding her outer layers and thumbing through the library of menus.

“No, just… my ex wasn’t much of a cook,” Olivia said, a laugh following her words. “Set fire to the stove once, actually.” She leaned over the counter opposite of Amanda and they perused the selection before landing on a nearby ramen restaurant. “You’ll love it,” Olivia assured, calling to place their order.

The ramen arrived as they watched the weather forecast, exchanging surprised glances as the meteorologists threw around facts and figures about this potentially record-breaking blizzard. Olivia went to the door to retrieve the noodles, plunking the takeout containers on the coffee table with bravado.

The smell of the soup filled the apartment, making Amanda’s mouth water. “My hero,” she giggled, unwrapping her bowl and popping off the lid. She speared the soft-boiled egg with her chopsticks and popped it in her mouth, groaning in bliss at the taste. “You really can get anything delivered in New York, huh?”

Olivia was almost too engrossed in stirring her noodles to hear. “Oh—yeah, living here definitely has its advantages.” She settled back on the couch and took her first bite, half-listening to the news on the television. “Why’d you ask for a transfer, anyway?” she asked, glancing at Amanda.

The million dollar question; the one on everybody’s lips. Amanda chewed her noodles thoughtfully, stalling for time to give a plausible answer that was at least half-true. “Just needed a change,” she said, attempting nonchalance, “Atlanta was… definitely a boys’ club.”

Olivia nodded through another mouthful of ramen. “You won’t find as much of that here,” she said, “We do alright for ourselves.”

“I was never really one of the good ol’ boys,” Amanda said, shaking her head. “That’s why I studied your cases. They used to make fun of me, though; called me a groupie.” She rolled her eyes and sighed in spite of herself, sitting back on the couch as she avoided Olivia’s gaze in embarrassment.

“Cragen definitely sees great things in you,” Olivia said, hoping her smile would reassure Amanda as she leaned forward, trying to meet her eyes in sympathy. “Also, I don’t know who lied to you, but I’m _not_ the be-all end-all of Sex Crimes detectives, New York or otherwise.” She stood and walked to the kitchen as she spoke, covertly blushing at Amanda’s flattery. “Do you want something to drink? I’m probably gonna have some wine, if you don’t mind.”

“That would be… great, actually,” Amanda said, turning to look over her shoulder into the kitchen. “After today, I’ll split the bottle with you, no problem,” she laughed, watching as Olivia uncorked the bottle and returned to the couch.

“I always knew we’d work well together,” Olivia joked, pouring the two glasses and leaving the bottle open on the table.

“Thanks,” Amanda said, taking her glass from Olivia. “Um… earlier, you said something that I can’t stop thinking about. About the squad. You’ve really been the only woman here for a while, huh?”

Olivia nodded and took a deep breath, letting it out in a measured, even sigh. “Yeah, that was… 1999, I think. My first year.” She looked pensive for a moment, her eyes darting away from Amanda’s as she reminisced. “It’s, um… it’s been a long time. But, anyway—” she looked back up, raising her glass in a toast, “To your first of many New York winters.”

Amanda grinned and clinked her glass with Olivia’s, following it with a long drink. She swirled the wine in the glass, watching it circle and slow to a stop. “In 1999, I was… just starting college.”

“Alright, you don’t need to make me feel _that_ old,” Olivia laughed, sipping her wine as she nudged Amanda playfully. “The other detective—Jeffries—was a casualty of the Morris Commission.”

“You mean to tell me there _hasn’t_ been a time IAB hasn’t been in our unit’s business?” Amanda raised an eyebrow, taking another drink. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Internal Affairs and Special Victims haven’t always been on the best of terms.” Olivia paused and took another sip before speaking again. “Ah… my old partner almost got canned by the same investigation.”

“I’ve heard from Fin and Munch. He was… a bit intense. ‘Least, that’s what they said.” Amanda turned her head, looking over her glass at Olivia. “Like Nick, right?”

Olivia pursed her lips and gave a small smile. “More than ‘a bit intense.’ His jacket read like the great American novel.” She chuckled at her own joke despite feeling the slightest prick of tears at the corners of her eyes. “But he was a good partner. Always had my back.”

Amanda nodded knowingly as she sipped from her glass, and the room grew quiet, leaving the television to drone on, forecasting colder temperatures. They sat together in silence for a moment, alternating sips of wine and shifting on the couch, pretending to be interested by the weather report. Amanda finished her glass and held it in her hands, cupping the goblet with her palms. “You sure you’re still okay with me crashin’ here tonight?” Her voice was quieter than normal as she curled up on the corner of the couch.

It was as if someone had snapped Olivia like a rubber band. “Oh—Rollins, of course; it’s fine,” she said, suddenly back in the present. She noticed Amanda’s empty glass and gestured to the bottle. “You want a refill?”

Amanda bit her lip and shook her head. “I’m okay, really,” she shrugged, growing bashful, “I don’t do red wine very much.”

Olivia topped her own glass off. “More of a Moscato girl?” Her grin was roguish and friendly—a different smile than Amanda had ever seen before; it arrived spontaneously on Olivia’s lips. “I see that. But I think can change your mind about reds.”

“Is that a challenge?” Amanda asked, a smirk sneaking its way onto her face. “It’s still early,” she said, holding out her glass, “Hit me.”


End file.
